


Pushing It

by cluelesspaladin



Series: We Built This Ship to Wreck [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assassin Lance, Blowjobs, Lancelot - Freeform, M/M, canon-divergent AU, grey!Lotor, it's a little amusing, quicky, wall-sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluelesspaladin/pseuds/cluelesspaladin
Summary: The prince's pet assassin returns from a mission and decides to push the envelope. Said prince both appreciates and loathes his efforts.-There's a quicky in the war-room. Self-explanatory.
Relationships: Lance/Lotor (Voltron)
Series: We Built This Ship to Wreck [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642273
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	Pushing It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abscission](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/gifts).



Lance slips into the conference room like a second shadow as the last members of the current command briefing are leaving, inclining his head behind the dark blue mask as he takes up residence against the wall. He doesn’t bother to announce himself; Lotor is still standing at the head of the massive conference table, his tone firm as he continues to speak to someone on one of the screens in front of him. With the pale green light illuminating the prince’s features, Lance can only assume that it’s one of his personal generals. Perhaps Axca- she was last known to be visiting the Olkari in deliberations as a neutral party.

A catlike smirk stretches his features, hidden behind the mask as he uncrosses his arms, a rather impulsive thought crossing his mind.

It was something of a game, he would admit. One that Lotor constantly disapproved of due to the delicate nature of his standing as a prince. Regardless if he had reclaimed the title or a throne, all of the Galra and personnel upon his ships were loyal only to him. And yet, one that Lance had persuaded him to agree to.

Honestly, Lance didn’t know why Lotor protested so much- he was usually the one to instigate another round of the risky business they pursued in what little free time they could find. Between the prince’s Blue Shrike assassinating high level targets under Zarkon’s command and the prince himself directing his rapidly expanding forces elsewhere, it was becoming a rarer occurrence when the both of them happened to be on the same ship for longer than a day.

Which was why Lance had… cleared his schedule, so to speak. At least for the next two days. More than enough time to get everything out of his system before Lotor sent him on another mission.

He resisted the urge to chuckle as he ducked down under the higher edge of the table- not for the first time silently thanking Galra for being taller than Terrans. It made his current target much easier to approach without being found out. It was a hunter’s crouch as he slunk along the base of the table, ducking around one of the supports so that he was face to face with Lotor’s groin.

He knows he’s still in the clear by the fact that Lotor is still using his usual “I’m-deep-in-conversation-and-thinking-on-something-complicated” voice with who is indeed Axca on the other end of the face-call. Something about a lesser planet being liberated by the paladins before their units could get there.

Lance leans forward, mask retracted so as to nip at Lotor’s thigh. Blue eyes flick up to his prince, but there is no change to Lotor’s outward appearance. Still, he waits for the signal to call him off- a triple tap of his claws against his thigh. Something innocent enough should anyone wander in, but a clear sign if Lance was overstepping boundaries.

Which he did rather frequently when it came to his lover.

But the signal never comes.

Lance huffs a silent laugh as he settles more firmly between Lotor’s thighs, well aware that the table is high enough to conceal Lotor’s midsection and hide Lance from sight from the general on the other end of the face-call. Unless someone is brave (or stupid) enough to approach Lotor while conducting princely affairs, they have the room for the near future.

Lance mouths along the ridges of Lotor’s length through his flight suit- the prince near always wore it. Claimed that it was more thoroughly armored than his usual attire. Lance could believe it. Most believed the prince to be above such things as being in the thick of battle with the rest of his troops, but Lotor was not like most royalty. Thus, most apparel he was offered tended to be more catered toward the pretty, delicate princeling most outside his inner circles thought him to be.

Lotor’s conversation with Axca continues. Lance almost outright laughs when he hears the boisterous arrival of one of her mates and another of the generals- Zethrid, if the booming tone was any indication. It means that Lotor isn’t going to be ending his call any time soon, and Lance intends to fully take advantage of such a situation.

After all, what point is there to pushing the boundary if it doesn’t involve a little bit of fun along the way?

His long fingers easily tug the hidden belt free from beneath Lotor’s tunic, pulling the fabric down to reveal his goal. Not for the first time, Lance admired the soft violet hues that Lotor’s length was painted, the several ridges from his Galra heritage and the weeping head a soft pink from his Altean.

(To be fair, he’d slept with hybrids of both varieties and both were equally pleasurable. But to have both Galra and Altean? Absolutely delightful.)

Lance wastes no time in mouthing along the length, not for the first time mildly disappointed that Galra’s testicles were tucked up into their bodies. Inconvenient during sex, but slightly more practical from an evolutionary standpoint. Why have something that makes a rather notable target on the outside of the body when one can simply evolve to live without it?

Lotor’s breath changed as he sighed at something Axca said.

Perhaps.

Might have been well timed with Lance taking his length down in one swift motion, throat relaxing as he swallowed thickly.

And that was definitely a much more noticeable tick. A flick of Lotor’s claws, his arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at something Zethrid had said. A curl of satisfaction licks at Lance’s thoughts as he sets a leisurely pace, bobbing slowly down the length and working nearly every trick he knew to get Lotor to lose his composure.

There are small things he’s learned to look for, but Lotor is determined to win this round. Disappointing, really. Lance wouldn’t risk making any further noises lest he blow- _ha_ \- his cover. He knows Lotor’s generals already suspect something going on behind closed doors. Lance is almost certain they would think nothing of it should they discover the truth, but he respects Lotor’s wishes to remain anonymous. They’re in the middle of a war, after all. No reason to paint any more targets than they absolutely need to on their backs.

Lotor’s cock pulses on his tongue, pre-cum coating his lips as he maintains his steady pace. A muscle pulses in his lover’s jaw.

“Very well.” He finally says; slightly breathy, Lance notes, to the generals on screen. “I expect a report in the next varga.”

Agreement echoes across the digital screen from the two, perhaps three generals speaking to their leader.

The _second_ the digital screen is banished, Lance finds himself in a whirl of movement as Lotor slams him against the nearest wall, length hard and hot against his thigh as he whispers darkly, “and how long did you think I would last with your sinful tongue, you utter _menace_?”

“A little too long, in my opinion.” Lance retorts, pulling Lotor in and sealing their lips together. It’s hasty, tension in the air with the threat of anyone walking in on them like this. The Prince and the Blue Shrike; the rumors such an affair would spark would be _legendary_.

He receives a wordless growl in reply. Lotor lifts Lance like he weighs nothing and further pins him against the wall, flight suit already half peeled off of him as the prince skillfully strips him.

God, Lance shouldn’t find that as hot as he does, but it’s hardly a secret to be known for some interesting kinks. He nips along Lotor’s neck, pushing aside the fabric to decorate his collar in some fashion as the prince further continues his own process.

The luckiest- and most amazing- thing about those with Altean heritage probably has to go to their junk being self lubricating. It means that Lance doesn’t have to worry about carrying lube around in his pocket if the need to jump Lotor arises, and certainly saves some time whenever they have only the moments they can steal in the shadows of dark halls.

Still, Lotor allows him a moment to breathe in Lance’s scent before thrusting forward, burying himself in the smaller man with a near silent moan. Lance almost can’t help himself as he throws his head back, the familiar pain-pleasure blend building pressure in his gut and behind his eyes. It’s been too long since he was here with Lotor, too long since they’d had sex that was fulfilling enough to get him through the day.

It’s made better by the angle and the fact that Lance’s feet aren’t touching the ground. His hands claw at the walls as Lotor’s pace quickly moves from frenzied to downright manic, hitting every one of Lance’s boxes and sending him hurtling toward the inevitable. His hand fists himself and works slowly compared to Lotor’s pace, the mixed signals sending all kinds of pleasure to his brain and short-circuiting all of his non-essential thoughts.

It doesn’t take long before Lance tips over the edge, orgasm painting the dark grey of Lotor’s armored flight suit as the Galra sinks his teeth into the juncture of Lance’s neck and grinds in deeply to release his own seed.

They stay there for a handful of seconds before Lance taps the back of Lotor’s hand, gaze flicking to the door. A moment later, the pair are scrambling in coordinated chaos to clean themselves up and seat themselves at the table, Lance bringing up a schematic from his latest mission just as the door swings open.

To both of their credit, aside from Lotor’s hair being pushed over his shoulder, nothing is out of place. Granted, Lance has quite a bit more cover with his mask and hood, and he relishes in the invisible smirk he shoots his lover as Lotor turns to raise a brow at the handful of soldiers.

“My prince.” The leader greets, the other four mirroring the statement. Lance remains completely at ease as their uneasy looks roam his appearance. The Blue Strike has quite the reputation amongst the ranks- one that Lance is highly unwilling to compromise now.

Even for a pretty prince such as his lover.

“Captain.” Lotor greets evenly. “Do you require the room?”

“No, my prince. We had simply… wondered. If you would be rejoining us for the dinner planet-side this evening. The diplomats from this world sent a messenger.”

Neither man misses the hesitation in the words, Lance’s presence obviously disconcerting them.

“Blue, you are dismissed.” Lotor sighs. Lance can see he’s struggling not to roll his eyes at his subordinates’ nervousness at the sight of the prince’s personal assassin. “You’ll have your next assignment within the next solar-cycle.”

He inclines his head as he stands, using his slender frame to weave around the small unit with purposeful intent. As the door closes behind him, Lance is positive they’ll all be breathing a sigh of relief.

Ah, the simple pleasures of life.

He’s halfway down the hall when he receives a note on the HUD in his mask.

_A point in your favor. Meet me in the observation deck tonight._

If Lance happens to go along his way with an extra bounce in his step, no one dares point it out to the assassin.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [...straight to your arms i'd go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913584) by [abscission](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/pseuds/abscission)




End file.
